


Luke & Vader One-Shots

by lOgIn_hAs_alREAdy_bEeN_tAkeN



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Drowning, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Darth Vader, Undercover As Prostitute, slave AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-06-28 00:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19801144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lOgIn_hAs_alREAdy_bEeN_tAkeN/pseuds/lOgIn_hAs_alREAdy_bEeN_tAkeN
Summary: This is just a collection of Luke and Vader oneshots. Summaries and warnings will be at the start of each chapter.





	1. Slave AU

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is just a collection of one-shots revolving around Luke and Vader's relationship. I don't have a definite update schedule, these are just random burst of energy that devolve into father son fluff. 
> 
> If you have requests you can leave them in the comments!! I can't guarantee I'll write them but I'll at least think about it. Same applies for if you want a second part of a particular one-shot or something. 
> 
> This one is slave!Luke, where the Lars and Obi-Wan are dead and 8 year old Luke is a Force-sensitive slave and Vader accidentally finds his son. 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!!

Vader hated Tatooine.

He hated the sand, the heat, the _memories._

He hated Tatooine more than any planet in the galaxy. Which was why his master had sent him here.

His continual failure in finding the latest Rebel base had invoked Sidious’s _displeasure;_ which roughly translated to several humiliating and excruciating rounds of Sith lightning. Vader’s scowl deepened at the memories.

As further punishment for his failure, Sidious had ordered him to negotiate a treaty with the _Hutts_ so the Empire could use Hutt controlled hyperspace lanes. And as further _further_ punishment, Vader wasn’t allowed to kill anyone to get it done.

In short, Vader was _seething._

He hated not being able to find the Rebels, he hated Sidious and he hated _Tatooine!_

Vader’s cloak flared out dramatically behind him as he stalked heavily into the Hutt’s palace, a barrage of dust following in his wake.

It was cooler inside the building, the glaring sun less harsh when out of view. Though Vader would never admit it, even to himself, his shoulders slackened just the tiniest amount when the sweltering heat was mitigated. The heavy layers of black armour were not built for the hot climate of Tatooine. 

Jabba’s throne room was dimly lit and packed with party goers, slavers and slaves, bounty hunters, hustlers and businessmen; anyone who had Jabba’s favour. The air was thick and smoky, obscuring the darkened edges of the throne room. For once, Vader was glad for his respirator filtering the air, the stench of the packed bodies coated in sweat and other bodily fluids must have been horrible.

The moment Vader stepped inside, shrieks and cries rang out as the horrific symbol of the empire’s cruelty loomed into view. His large form obscuring the doorway and only exit of the throne room.

But Jabba only laughed; his fat, oozing body jiggling.

He marched forward through the crowd, people tripping over themselves to get out of his way. Trying to put as much distance possible between Vader and themselves. Some especially pathetic creatures even held slaves in front of them as sentient shields.

Vader growled, his mood worsening (if it was even possible). He did not have time for these cowardly fools, he would force Jabba to sign the treaty and get off this disgusting dust ball of a planet as soon as possible.

He stopped just short of Jabba massive throne (more of an elevated platform really) and crossed his arms easily avoiding the control box on his chest after years of habit.

“Lord Vader,” Jabba rumbled, “Here to discuss the treaty?”

Once the disgusting creature finished it’s mocking pleasantries, the rusted protocol droid beside him slowly began to translate the Huttese words into basic.

Vader didn’t have time for that.

“You know why I am here.” He growled, ignoring the droid. “The emperor commands you to sign the treaty.”

The Hutt just laughed.

“Of course, Lord Vader! But first, I have a gift for you; as a sign of good faith!”

Jabba waved a meaty arm and a guard stalked out from the shadows. In his hands was a chain, attached to the collar of small blonde boy dressed in pale, dirty rags who couldn’t be older than 8 standard.

The Hutt was giving him a _slave._

“This was not part of the deal, Hutt.” Vader ground out.

Vader was many things, but he would _never_ be a slave master.

“Ah, but you see Lord Vader, I think he will be very beneficial to you and the emperor,” The Hutt paused, “Or maybe just you.”

Vader’s fists creaked, if he still had fingernails, they probably would have broken glove _and_ skin by now.

“Neither I, nor the emperor require a _slave._ ”

Jabba laughed again; Vader was getting real sick of that _real_ fast.

“He shares your Jedi powers Lord Vader! He-“

The still cowering party goers gasped and screamed as Jabba was cut off by an invisible force. His meaty arms clawing helplessly at his throat.

Vader stood completely motionless, except for the raised arm and the fist that was quickly tightening.

“I am no Jedi.”

Vader abruptly released the slimy Hutt and watched as he sputtered out assurances and apologies.

“Yes, Lord Vader! Definitely not a Jedi!”

While Jabba desperately tried to regain the Sith’s favour, Vader turned his focus toward the slave he had been presented with.

Upon closer inspection, the boy was a brilliant star in the Force, bright and uncorrupted. And if trained correctly…

A powerful weapon.

Vader drew back, centring his focus in the physical world. He was irritated to find the Hutt still blabbering at him.

“I will take the boy.” Vader said flatly, cutting through Jabba’s rambling.

The Hutt looked mildly surprised, like he couldn’t believe he wasn’t being executed for displeasing the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy. Jabba seemed to shake himself out of it quickly, slipping back into the false role of unaffected and in control and nodding to the guard holding the slave’s chain.

The guard came forward, dragging the reluctant child behind him as he presented the chain to Vader.

Though Vader showed no outward signs of hesitation as he accepted the chain, internally he was seething with rage. He was becoming the one thing he’d always hated.

A Slaver.

But he could not afford to deal with that clustered mess of emotions now, he still had a mission.

Vader drew himself back up to his full height, focusing on giving off a commanding aura, using the respect and fear he had earned earlier to intimidate the Hutt once more. He drew out a small data pad from the folds of his cloak.

“You _will_ sign the treaty, Hutt.”

Jabba looked as if he was considering it, weighing the options before he made his decision.

A glare from Vader quickened that process.

Jabba nudged a nearby Twilek slave, muttering low in Huttese for her to go collect the pad. As the girl took the pad from Vader, he saw her mouth a Huttese goodbye to something next to Vader’s hip.

Vader’s brows furrowed momentarily before he remembered.

The slave.

She was saying goodbye to the slave.

Vader glanced down, noticing the wetness in the child’s bright blue eyes, but also the determination he hadn’t seen the likes of for nearly eight years. The child seemed to notice someone looking at him and raised his head to stare back at Vader, a stubbornness Vader knew had once rested on his own face, when he was around the age of this boy and going through something _very_ similar.

Vader looked harder at the child, everything about him seemed _familiar._ But before Vader could figure out just what made this boy so known to him, the same slave from before was presenting the now signed data pad back to him.

Vader accepted quickly returning the data pad to the deep folds of his cloak. He turned suddenly and the child flinched as the movement yanked on his collar. He followed Vader closely as they exited the Hutts palace.

The boy squinted when the sun first hit his face; pale skin turning immediately pink signified that the child was not born of Tatooine parentage. The natives of this planet were typically tanned, with dark hair and eyes to match. The pale blue eyes, the sandy blond hair and now the otherworldly skin, told Vader there was something more to this child.

Vader began to walk at a quick pace, longing to get back to the temperature regulated confines of his ship where he could uncover the mystery of the child in peace. The boy in question jogged behind him, running to keep up with Vader’s long strides.

Vader frowned, slowly slightly to give the boy more time to catch up. Vader didn’t want to accidently choke the child with the collar. The boy’s power was too great to be wasted.

Finally, after what felt like decades, they reached Vader’s shuttle. The TIE Advanced like a black monolith on the horizon.

Once inside, Vader let go of the chain, opening the collar with a wave of the Force. There was no chance of the child escaping inside the shuttle.

The boy looked stunned, both in equal measure amazed and terrified by Vader’s casual display of power. Vader sat down in the pilots chair, starting up the engine and punching in coordinates. Out of the corner of his eyes, Vader saw the child sneak up behind him, hoping to go unnoticed as he peered around Vader’s bulk. The child most likely hadn’t been off world since he got here (however long ago that may have been).

Vader watched the child as he lifted the shuttle off the ground; a small gasp escaping the boy. The child was clearly enamoured, so much he seemed to forget Vader’s presence as they left Tatooine’s atmosphere; the light of hyperspace reflecting in his wide blue eyes.

Vader’s eyes had once looked like that. They had looked _exactly_ like that.

Now away from the prying eyes of the rest of the galaxy, Vader took his time to _truly_ study the child.

The boy looked nearly exactly like he had. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the cleft chin; all of it was Anakin Skywalker.

Except for the nose.

That looked like Padme’s nose.

But that was impossible, Vader thought. She had died. He had killed her himself. The slave boy in front of him was not his son.

But he wouldn’t know for sure unless he asked.

The boy in question still had not noticed Vader’s gaze, entrapped in the beauty of thousands of stars whizzing past. Vader stared a second longer before he made up his mind.

“What is your name child?”

The boy startled, falling back from his spot by Vader’s chair. He quickly arranged himself into a kneeling position, before saying six words Vader both rejoiced and raged to hear.

“My name is Luke Skywalker, Master.”


	2. Almost Drowns AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is running from Stormtroopers for some reason or another and when he is captured Vader comes to collect him! But while Luke is trying to escape, he falls into a river. 
> 
> And Luke can't swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *has another fic that i should really be working on*  
> also me: *writes random vader and luke fluff* 
> 
> greetings!! i have returned!! dont get used to these consistent updates though. here is luke almost drowning AND getting shot AND dislocating his knee!! 
> 
> tell me what you think in the comments or leave me a prompt for more vader and luke one shots!! accepting all requests!!

Luke dashed through dense forest, his feet getting caught every couple steps in the thick undergrowth. His stumbling gait involuntarily slowing with the numerous obstacles.

The crunch of leaves and fallen branches followed him. Luke could feel the small lights in the Force he’d come to recognise as sentients, slowly surrounding him. Stormtroopers.

And they were getting closer.

Kriff.

But he couldn’t let them take him. He couldn’t let Vader get him.

Luke had seen the posters, the ones where Vader personally demanded his capture. His squadron liked to collect them, gawking over the astronomical reward for the Death Star Pilot’s capture. But the posters didn’t have his real name or even a vague description, these troopers just thought he was some random rebel.

But if he was captured, they would immediately know. Leia never talked about her interrogation aboard the Death Star, but he could see the haunted, _pained_ look in her eyes whenever it was brought up. The way she would drift, away from the present and into the past. One night on the Falcon, he’d woken to her screaming and thrashing in her bunk. It had taken her hours to calm down.

Luke knew he wouldn’t be able to outlast Imperial questioning. 

But he could feel them closing in. The occasional flashes of blaster fire getting closer and more frequent. Modulated voices barely distinguishable from each other. Their torch beams drifting ever nearer. Soon he would be trapped with nowhere to go. 

Luke stumbled again; crying out as a sharp pain erupted in his left thigh, one of the Stormtrooper’s stray shots clipping him.

Kriff.

They’d heard him.

Luke could almost _feel_ their triumph in the Force; the torches finally finding him, silhouetting his figure against the inky forest. The voice rose in a chorus of shouting, whether it was directed at Luke or the other troopers, he didn’t know. The Stormtroopers began to quicken their pace, moving towards him with their blasters at the ready.

Luke needed to _run._

He pushed his legs to keep moving, but he was tiring; he’d been running for literal hours. His lungs were screaming at him and his head was pounding from dehydration. He needed to lose the troopers, Luke would have to stop soon, whether it was voluntary or forced.

His thigh made the decision for him a couple paces later.

His leg buckled and gave out underneath him; bringing Luke down face first into the unforgiving forest floor.

Luke silently berated himself, he needed to get up. He didn’t have time to waste. But his limbs weren’t responding as they should. His arms and legs felt heavy, like they were packed with lead. The sudden halt had allowed his exhaustion to spread and burrow itself deep into his aching muscles. 

But the Stormtroopers were still getting closer. 

Luke’s breath came in short shallow gasps. His chest heaving with effort as he pushed himself to his hands and knees. Sitting back on his haunches, taking the weight off his hands, he fought to stay upright when his entire body wanted to fall.

Closer still.

Sun-bleached strands clung to his forehead. His flight suit was now comprised of torn, gaping holes that allowed the planet’s cool air to enter, leaving behind a layer of semi-dried sweat. Blood trickled down his leg, flowing at an alarming rate as he made himself stand, using a nearby tree as support.

Closer.

Electric blue eyes squinted in the planets perpetual twilight, watching a whole squadron of troops appeared from the shadows, like faceless spectres come to doom him to his fate. They moved swiftly, forming a tight circle around him, blocking any and all escape. White armour reflected the minimal light, their helmets watching him, waiting for him to make a move. 

“On your knees!” One yelled. “Hands behind your head!” 

Luke didn’t have time to even consider complying, a trooper immediately coming up behind him and kicking his legs out, forcing him to his knees. He barely suppressed a cry of pain as the movement aggravated his wound. Luke grit his teeth, hands balling into shaky fists as a new wave of pain wracked through his body. Another trooper came forward, holding a blaster right against Luke’s head as the first one grabbed both his wrists, cuffing them behind his back. 

Luke knew he should be fighting them. He should have been jumping to his feet, throwing out a witty one liner before igniting his sabre and freeing himself, galivanting back home to the Alliance. But his sabre was still on his X-wing and he was tired.

He was so _tired._

Luke slumped forward; exhaustion visible in the slackened lines of his face. The contorted position pulled on his shoulders, but he didn’t have the energy to even sit up. Some of the Stormtroopers laughed at him, no doubt amused by his pathetic-ness.

But it didn’t matter anymore. The empire had him. They had finally captured the Death Star pilot. And Luke had seen what happened to high-ranking rebels. They were executed. Publicly on live Imperial broadcast for the whole galaxy to see.

He hoped Leia wouldn’t be too upset.

Luke was thrown from his thoughts by the loud crackle of com static. The troopers were calling in his capture.

“This is Captain TN-3358 of Squadron 4013, we have secured Skywalker.” 

Luke jolted back upright at his name. They shouldn’t have known his name.

In response to his jerky movement, one of the troopers struck him with the butt of his blaster. Luke yelped, unprepared for the sudden assault. 

“Stay down rebel scum.” The trooper leered.

Luke glared back up at him through his eyelashes. If they let him out of these binders, he would show them exactly what ‘rebel scum’ did to nasty Imperials. But before he could make this thought known, a voice from the com interrupted him, a voice that made his blood turn to ice.

“Ensure Skywalker remains that way until I arrive.”

All the stormtroopers immediately straightened, fear polluting the Force.

“O-of course Lord Vader.” The Captain stuttered before Vader ended the transmission.

Luke was frozen. Vader would be personally collecting him.

Luke was fucked.

So, he did what any coherent rebel Jedi-in-training did and panicked.

_Explosively._

The Stormtroopers were thrown back by an invisible Force, dropping blasters and flashlights as they were violently pushed away from Luke. The armour clad bodies all clattered to the ground, the troopers all disorientated and surprised as they searched blindly for what had hit them.

Amidst the chaos, Luke saw his chance. Quickly and quietly, he rose into a crouched stance, resting his weight on the ball of his feet; his arms still locked behind him. He silently began to slink around the troopers, feeling their positions in the Force as they fumbled for their blasters and torches.

Once he was clear he straighten up and with renewed (and Force driven) strength, dashed away; arms still bound and leg still bleeding.

As he was escaping, he heard the Captain’s voice call out behind him.

“Find the Jedi!”

_Kriff._

He’d just given them an even bigger reason to pursue him.

Luke swore, pushing his exhausted and adrenaline-wracked body onward. He just needed to find somewhere to hide, where Vader wouldn’t be able to find him. But as soon as Luke finalised that thought, the planet’s already minimal light abruptly disappeared, plunging him into darkness. 

The Executer had just entered real space. 

Right above the planet. 

Luke was running out of time.

He ran blindly through the inky black; trusting the Force not to lead him astray. The binders dug sharply into his wrists with every step and he felt the skin begin to tear away under the constant onslaught.

Behind him, the stormtroopers had begun to fan back out; torches now brightly lit.

He _needed_ to hide.

In the Stormtroopers flickering torchlight, he could make out a river barely 50 metres away from him. The river was surrounded by stacked boulders over twice his height.

The perfect hiding space.

Luke sped up his pace. He just needed to reach the river, then he could rest. The strain on his muscles was nearly too much and Luke collapsed when he reached the river, welcoming the cool water-smoothed stone against his cheek.

But he wasn’t safe yet.

Luke drew his knees up to his chest and pulled his hands back in front of him, rising to a crawl. He scanned the rocks in front of him, looking for a gap in the rocks where he could wedge himself. In the flickering, inconsistent light, Luke could just make out a hole that would be big enough for him. He contorted his body around the rocks, hearing the shouts of Stormtroopers and the distinct groan of TIE fighters flying overhead. The TIE’s had turned spotlights on, illuminating the ground, making Luke very very vulnerable. 

He hurriedly pushed himself further into the tight opening. His back was to the river and the crevice was filled with sticks and what felt like feathers; he was probably in a animals nest. A deep breath through his nose confirmed it, the smell of old blood and animal faeces permeated the air.

A predator’s den.

Luke hunched in on himself, trying to hide his thin frame behind the boulder that partially obscured the crevice opening. His eyes fixed on the search parties scouring the forest. As long as he stayed quiet and didn’t draw attention, he might make it out of this.

A TIE swooped back over his hiding place again and Luke felt a new anxiety begin to unfurl in his gut.

That was Vader’s TIE.

Luke could feel it. Through the Force he could feel concentrated rage and possessiveness sweeping over the area, like a giant vengeful spotlight. Enamoured by Vader’s easy control of the Force, Luke dared closer, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed; Vader’s simple display of power enrapturing Luke.

A fatal mistake.

He felt the dark spotlight notice him and home in on Luke’s signature, finding his hiding place easily once given direction.

Luke didn’t have time to berate himself on giving away his location. He had to get moving again. He began to twist his body once again, his thigh screaming as he scrapped it against the rock. Luke had been stupid, and Vader had found him; he needed to run.

But getting out of the hole was a lot harder than getting in. Luke had managed to get most of his body out, but his injured leg had gotten caught just above the knee.

Luke tugged _hard._ He didn’t have time for this, he could feel the cold, dark presence of Vader quickly approaching. Luke tugged again pulling hard enough the jar his knee, the rock moved slightly. But his cry of pain turned into a growl as his leg remained stuck. He twisted his leg sideways, hoping desperately for a way out. But all he succeeded in doing was injuring himself further. 

Then Vader found him.

Luke clamped his hands over his head as ears were filled with the shrill whine of Vader’s TIE. It swooped low overhead, before it landed on the river’s hard stone banks and Vader, in all his murderous glory, exited the ship.

Luke froze, forgetting about his trapped leg in the presence of the Sith Lord.

Vader managed to narrow in on Luke immediately, despite him still being obscured by several large rocks.

“Skywalker.”

The rumbling bass startled Luke into action, and he thrashed his leg desperately. He felt the rock give slightly under his more violent tugs.

“Come willing, and you will face no further harm.” Vader said, unfazed by his panicked jerking

“Before you execute me!” Luke yelled back, a burst of courage punctuating his words as he continued to tug, the rock slowly moving.

Vader planted his hands on his hips, “You will not be executed, young one.”

Luke had quite a bit of doubt about that statement. So, Luke, in all his illogical and suicidal glory, voiced this thought.

“LIAR!”

Loudly.

Luke had no clue when he decided talking back to the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy was an acceptable idea. Luke also had no clue why the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy was _letting_ him talk back. 

Vader didn’t even flinch, his words even and unaffected as he replied, “I am many things, but I am no liar.”

But Vader didn’t stop there. He stalked forward; black armour barely distinguishable from the dark surroundings. Luke pulled hard on his leg again, one more big tug and he’d be free.

Vader stopped just a couple metres away from where Luke was trapped. 

“This is your final chance, come willingly, and you will face no further harm.”

“Never!”

Putting his whole weight behind it, he yanked himself away from the boulder. Luke cried out as his kneecap dislocated, feeling the bone pop completely out of its socket.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the rock Luke had moved in his struggles, stopped supporting the rock above it. The boulders began to shift, knocking into each other like dominoes as they began to fall.

Vader noticed too. 

The Sith thrust out his hand and Luke was thrown away from the boulder collapse, right into the river.

And Luke couldn’t swim.

Luke screamed as his battered leg hit the icy water, all the air leaving his lungs in a single breath. He panicked and flapped his bound arms hoping to push himself back up to the surface. His baggy flight suit acted like a giant sandbag, pulling him further downward. Luke’s lungs burned with a lack of oxygen and he instinctually opened his mouth, sucking in litres of freezing river water. But Luke still fought, his thrashing becoming weaker and weaker as his consciousness faded.

Then Luke stopped fighting.

He was too tired to keep moving, too tired to even keep his eyes open. The cold had easily seeped through his clothing. Luke was entirely numb, there was no pain anymore. He supposed at least dying this way might be better than decapitation via lightsabre.

He hoped Leia wouldn’t be too upset.

* * *

Luke came to to with a wet gasp, his throat burning.

Someone manhandled him into a sitting position, and he coughed up most of the river water in his lungs. Luke’s throat burned as he drew in hoarse, ragged breaths, his chest rattling with every shallow gasp. He shivered and burrowed further into the warmth behind him. Luke blinked harshly as he rubbed his eyes, trying to make out his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was that he was still on the planet, leaning against what was most likely a boulder and overlooking the river. The second thing he noticed was the heavy black cloak wrapped tightly around him and the two black clad legs resting either side of him.

Luke was sitting in Vader’s lap.

He screeched, trying to jerk away from the massive Sith Lord. But the combination of Vader’s cloak, and Luke’s injured leg quickly informed him that wasn’t an option. Luke stopped just as suddenly as he started, groaning in pain as his leg made its protest known.

In response to his squirming, Vader tightened his grip; locking one arm around the rebel’s chest and the other around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides; holding Luke flush against his chest.

“Cease your struggling young one, you will only injure yourself further.”

Luke winced, being this close to Vader made his voice _loud._

But that didn’t mean Luke would listen.

He spitefully flung his head back, hoping he was tall enough to hit one of the buttons or switches on Vader’s control box. Maybe the Sith had a volume dial. When Luke’s head connected with Vader’s chest, he quickly discovered he was tall enough.

To hit edge of it.

Hard.

Luke yelped and Vader immediately pushed Luke’s head forward, one hand feeling for a cut while the other arm stayed around his waist, gripping just a little bit harder. Vader’s hand brushed over the spot and Luke hissed, struggling to jerk his head out of the Sith’s grip.

“You foolish boy.” Vader muttered, blood from Luke’s head dribbling down his gloves.

Pinned like this Luke could feel the vibrations the vocoder made when Vader spoke.

“Let me go Vader!”

Luke’s voice was hoarse and barely more than a whisper, but he knew the Sith had heard him. Vader tightened his arm around Luke’s waist, his finger pressing just the tiniest amount harder into Luke’s hair.

“Never, my son.”

Around him, Luke felt the Force burst into a canopy of sound, rejoicing and mourning at the same time when Vader said those three words.

“No!” Luke cried, voice raw and breaking, “No, my father was Anakin Skywalker. You killed him!”

Luke began to thrash again, uncaring on the pain in his leg as he fought Vader’s unrelenting hold.

“Search your feelings Luke, you know it to be true.”

Somewhere deep down, Luke knew he wasn’t lying, the Force rung true with his words. But he wouldn’t accept it. His father was a hero, a Jedi; Anakin Skywalker was not a Sith!

“No!”

Vader flattened his hand against Luke’s scalp, carding his fingers through the boy’s damp locks.

“Sleep my son, you are injured.” The words were heavily laced with Force suggestion, “We will discuss this at greater lengths later.”


	3. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets stranded on an island and his Dad has to come pick him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one kinda sucks and the ending is rushed but... I'm updating? 
> 
> Might take it down later lol. 
> 
> Feel free to leave me a prompt in the comments!!

Luke was stuck on an island. In the middle of an ocean planet. And there was no other land in sight.

In conclusion, the mission hadn’t gone well.

He’d been tasked with recon on a planet the Alliance thought might be good for a base. Something easy so Luke could get back in the game after Bespin. But their informant had lied. There had been an Imperial outpost barely two klicks away from where he’d landed and Luke had been ambushed by stormtroopers, he only just gotten away, and not without injuries.

One of the ‘troopers had gotten a lucky shot and hit his prosthetic, blowing it clean off. Through gritted teeth, Luke had shut down the remaining circuitry, stopping it from sending any pain signals. He’d needed a clear mind to pilot his ship.

Somehow, he’d managed to get off the planet and escape his pursuers. Luke had found an asteroid ring to hide in, around the damned planet he was stranded on now.

He’d gotten lucky; which probably should have been his first clue. 

Just as he’d felt safe enough to power down most of his exterior defences (Aunt Beru had raised him better than to waste much needed power), a whole damn pirate fleet had found him!

With one hand out of commission he hadn’t been able to fly and fire back. As consequence, his X-wing’s engine had been blown to bits. He’d drawn heavily on the on the Force to cushion his fast landing, and had jumped ship last minute, scrambling onto the island just in time to watch his x-wing sink pathetically into the dark blue waters, taking his only form of communication with it.

Luke huffed; he was not having a good day.

He had no ship, no communicator and no _right hand._

Luke kicked at the ground, spraying sand back up into his face. His face twisted into a grimace as the sand infiltrated his hair and clothing. Luke growled, shaking himself to try and dislodge the sand, but into only seemed to bury itself further into him. The fine grains clinging to his skin. Luke shook again, throwing his head around enough to make himself dizzy.

But. It. Still. Stuck.

“I don’t like sand! Its coarse! And rough! And irritating and it gets _everywhere_!” He yelled, his only hand pulling at his hair.

‘ _That makes two of us young one.’_

Luke flinched back at the deep baritone voice.

Great. His evil Sith father had come to make his already horrible day even worse.

Luke ignored him, plopping down onto the sand and drawing his knees up so he could rest his head on them. Ever since Bespin, Vader had been speaking to him, randomly accessing the link they shared. Trying to persuade Luke into joining him.

Into joining the dark.

But Luke never answered, he always ignored Vader. He didn’t know what would happen if he answered. Would Vader immediately find him? Would responding to his father cause him to fall? Would it make no difference at all?

Luke sighed, grabbing a fist full or sand with his one remaining hand. He watched them slip through his fingers back toward the shore. Luke repeated the action, trying to ignore the Dark presence in his head.

_‘You cannot ignore me forever Luke.’_

Luke could and he would.

 _‘Your destiny lies with me.’_ The Sith declared.

Luke yelled out in frustration and, purely out of spite, decided to take a risk.

_‘I. will. Never. Join. The kriffing Darkside!’_

At his response, he felt Vader’s presence recoil before reaching forward and crowding around Luke’s end of the bond. Luke swore, he’d known talking to Vader was a bad idea.

_‘You do not know the power of the Darkside.’_

Despite it all, Luke groaned; it was the same thing every time. That Luke should join the Darkside, that Luke should give in to his hate, that Luke doesn’t know anything. But Luke would _never_ fall, especially because of a mass murderer who cut his hand off. Some biological connection wasn’t enough to sway Luke.

At least that’s what he told himself.

Luke felt Vader’s presence shift again and he realised suddenly that he was projecting his emotions into the bond.

 _‘What are you so upset about? I can feel your irritation from the Executer.’_ Vader asked, his tone calm and even.

Though he knew Vader couldn’t see it, Luke made a face. _‘Why do you want to know?’_

It probably wasn’t a good idea to _keep_ talking to the Sith, even if nothing immediately bad had happened.

_‘I was merely asking my son.’_

Luke debated on not answering, on just ignoring Vader until he went away. But he currently had no com unit or X-wing beacon.

Vader was his only way off this god forsaken planet.

A plan began to form in Luke’s head, he would tell Vader where he was, Vader would collect him, then Luke could escape from the Executer by stealing on of the many TIE fighters; they wouldn’t notice if one went missing. Luke winced slightly at the many holes in his plan, there was no actual guarantee he would be able to escape. But Vader was his only way off.

He had to take the risk.

 _‘I… I’m stuck.’_ Luke told him.

The reply was immediate, the single syllable coated in disbelief.

_‘What?’_

Luke hesitated; was he really about to tell Vader, the man who had been hunting him for over two years now, where he was?

 _‘I’m stuck.’_ Luke said, his voice far more confident than he felt.

_‘What do you mean you’re stuck?’_

Luke really really did not want to be having this conversation, _especially_ on a day like this.

 _‘My X-Wing got shot down by some pirates,’_ Luke cringed, _‘And now… I’m stuck.’_

 _‘The infamous Death Star pilot, the Rebellion’s most prized flyer, got shot down. By_ pirates _.’_ Vader intoned; his voice incredulous.

Luke scowled, crossing his arms across his chest.

_‘Hey! It’s hard piloting with one hand!’_

The effect was instant, Vader’s mood immediately darkened. The calmness from earlier quickly being replaced by a cold vengeful, _possessive_ rage.

_‘The Rebellion denied you a prosthetic?!’_

_‘No! Why do you care anyway?’_ Luke said defensively, _‘You’re the one who cut it off in the first place.’_

Vader’s rage seemed to melt slightly, giving away to something akin to… guilt?

_‘It was a… most regrettable… mistake.’_

This time, it was Luke that got angry.

 _‘A mistake?! Chopping off your son’s hand is not a_ mistake.’

He felt Vader draw back slightly, that maybe-guilt growing in size before Vader stashed it away from Luke’s view.

_‘It is no matter now, what is done is done. Where are you Luke?’_

This was it. This was his opening; he could tell Vader where he was and get off this sandy shithole. But there was one _minor_ problem with that.

Luke didn’t _actually_ know where he was.

_‘I… I don’t know exactly… I know I’m in the Delta Vael system?’_

There was a pause. Luke held his breath; would Vader be able to find him? 

_‘I know where you are. I am coming my son.’_

Vader presence disappeared suddenly, retreating to his end of the bond. Luke plonked back down onto the sand. Vader was coming. Luke would get off this planet.

But what would it cost?

Luke drew his knees up again, wrapping his arms tightly around them as he stared up at the sky, waiting for a Star Destroyer to come blot out the sun.

* * *

“Luke.”

A hand was gently touching his left shoulder.

“Luke wake up.”

Luke moved to bat the hand away, so he could go back to sleep without disturbance.

But his hand wasn’t there.

Luke jolted awake, his eyes opening to see a nightmare. Darth Vader was crouching in front of him, a metal prosthetic clutching Luke’s arm. Luke flinched, displacing Vader’s arms as he desperately shuffled backwards on his elbows.

“Calm down young one, I mean you no harm.”

Slowly, Luke’s sleep-muddled brain caught up. He had called Vader, Vader had come, and Luke had fallen asleep waiting for him. Like when he was younger and he would stay up, staring at Tatooine’s night sky, waiting for his father to come back for him. Hoping his father would take his hand and lead him into the stars.

Luke tried not to think about that particular parallel.

His thoughts of nostalgia were interrupted by a burst of rage and sorrow in the Force. His father had heard him. Luke had once again been projecting his thoughts. He cursed himself, drawing up his shields like that could make up for what he’d already given away.

But Vader didn’t say anything.

He simply reached a hand out, a silent invitation just for Luke. An invitation he’d wanted since he was 6 years old and Aunt Beru had told him why his name was Skywalker not Lars. An invitation that 10 year old Luke would have died for. An invitation that 22 year old Luke had refused, hand missing just like Luke now.

But Luke now, had changed, Luke now just wanted guidance in a war filled galaxy, a shoulder to lean on, a confidant who could give him advice on secrets he’d never dared mutter before. Luke now just wanted his father. 

So, Luke took his father’s hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL TOUCHING 
> 
> Luke goes undercover as a prostitute to get information from an Imperial but said Imperial gets a bit rough. Darth Dad kills the guy before anything can actually happen though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi babes im back. haven't really had any inspiration recently. but if you got any ideas PLEASE comment them. i'll update better if i have prompts. 
> 
> i love comments and kudos *mwah* stay safe babes!!

Luke swayed his hips awkwardly to the beat, resisting the urge to scrub at the mountain of make up on his face. It was times like these when he cursed his ‘innocent baby face’ and ‘big doe eyes’ and ‘pouty lips’. 

_“Stupid boy think that I need him.”_

The Alliance spy department had needed someone who could pass as a teenager and looked ‘cute’ and ‘innocent’ for an intelligence gathering mission. Luke fluttered his glittery eyelashes at his target, trying to mimic the seductive expression he’d seen the other dancers do. _Everyone_ in his squadron had suggested him. Even _Han_ had gotten in on it.

_“I go red hot like a demon.”_

Either his awkward attempt at being attractive worked or the man was intoxicated enough it didn’t matter and stumbled closer to him.

_“I go ghost for no damn reason.”_

Despite the fact Luke had absolutely no spy craft talent, _at all,_ he’d still somehow ended up here. On one of the Core planets, in a sweaty nightclub wearing a mesh crop top, 4 inch heels and a pair of very tight and _very_ low waisted pants.

Luke fought not to buck the man’s hands off when they settled themselves _way_ too tightly his hips.

_“Stupid boy think that I need him.”_

Regardless of his lacking skill, he had still been sent on this mission. His objective was to go undercover in a high ranking Imperial’s favourite nightclub, seduce him and go back to the man’s hotel, then knock him unconscious and copy his clearance codes for the Alliance.

_“Stupid boy think that I need him.”_

No sweat. It would be easy, all Luke had to do was endure a little bit of rough dancing then the Alliance could get a _wealth_ of information. Possibly enough to change the tide of the war.

The target abruptly tightened his grip even further – Luke could feel his hip bones grinding together – and pulled Luke closer to him. His responding yelp was swallowed by the deafening music.

“ _Pleasin’ season, I’m spicy hot to touch, too much, too pricey.”_

Luke floundered for a moment before leaning into the bruising grip and wrapping his arms around the man’s sweaty neck, looking up through thick eyelashes and a dyed red fringe into the Imperial’s beady eyes.

God that man had a tight grip.

For the icing on the cake, he parted his lips, tongue darting out run over the glossy lip stick. The Imperial in question seemed pleased by this and slid his hands further down Luke’s body.

_“Heathen, I’m in your psyche, you don’t know no one else like me.”_

The wandering hands stopped on the curve of his ass and Luke flushed completely, averting his gaze. The Imperial laughed at him, smug and slapped his ass, _hard._

_“Stupid boy think that I need him.”_

Luke _accidentally_ stepped on his foot.

The man yelped and Luke may have been developing a begrudging respect for the heels.

Until the Imperial slapped him across the face.

“You’re a feisty one aren’t you?” the Imperial slurred into his ear, hand coming back up to grip his chin so tightly it would leave a mark to match the one on his cheek, “What’s your name babe?”

Luke slightly cringed at the pet name and the bruising grip.

“Atti, sir.” Luke purred, using the cover name Wedge had suggested.

The man hummed, pleased with Luke’s obedience and let go, hands moving to pinch at his lean chest. Also probably leaving marks. That _everyone_ would be able to see with the thinness of his mesh crop top.

“Well, _Atti,”_ His target hummed, _“_ Why don’t we continue this back at my hotel?”

This was it, Luke’s opening. He had to get this right.

“I’d love that sir,” Luke said, looking up with his big blue eyes.

He untwined his arms from around the Imperial’s neck and turned toward the exit. Luke’s body _hurt_ from the man’s rough touches. If this was the man’s version of foreplay, Luke was glad he didn’t _actually_ have to sleep with him.

All too soon, he felt the man’s hand wrap around his waist again, but instead of going down, this time they went up. Luke yelped when the fingers pinched his nipple before sliding back down to his waist.

Luke was _never_ doing this type of mission again.

As they navigated the crowds toward the club’s exit – the Imperial kept his hand _tight_ around Luke’s waist – the temperature seemed to drop significantly.

Luke frowned, everyone else around him was still sweating profusely but Luke was starting to _shiver._

He soon found out why when they reached the exit.

Standing outside was _Darth Kriffing Vader._

Luke barely had time to react before the Imperial was pushing him in front as a shield from the Sith Lord. Luke staggered forward, nearly falling out of his heels as his balance was thrown off and the surrounding troopers torches came up to illuminate him.

Luke suddenly realised exactly what he looked like.

“What,” The deep baritone rumbled, “Do you think you are doing young-“

The Sith Lord’s voice abruptly cut off and Luke could _feel_ his gaze on the bruises on Luke’s hips, chest and face. 

All thoughts of avenging his father, or Ben, or Biggs disappeared under the absolute _supernova_ of rage that suddenly filled the air. The lights on him flickered slightly as the troopers trembled.

The Imperial behind him was pulled toward Vader by an invisible force. Face dragging along the rough duracrete as his hands grasped uselessly at his throat.

_“How dare you!”_

The choking noises intensified, and Luke stumbled back onto his ass against the club’s front as blood splattered vividly across Vader’s helmet, forming a puddle underneath the man’s body as his organs were pulled out through his mouth and his bones snapped out of his skin.

Luke drew his knees up to his chest, burying his face into them as he clamped his hands over his ears, desperate to block out the gurgling screams.

But nothing could stop him from feeling the man’s presence leave the Force as his head exploded.

Belatedly Luke realised now would be the best time to run away. But that would mean he would have to look at the corpse.

Luke didn’t want to look at the corpse.

He felt gloved hands on the sides of his face as someone tilted his head up. But he didn’t open his eyes.

Luke felt the malicious storm of rage begin to dissipate, another indescribable emotion taking its place.

But Luke didn’t open his eyes.

He didn’t open them even when he felt a heavy piece of cloth drape over his back. He didn’t open them when he felt strong unyielding arms under his knees and back. He didn’t open them when he was cradled to a hard, armoured chest.

Luke leant his head into his carrier’s shoulder and as he drifted off he could’ve sworn he heard his father’s voice.

_‘Sleep my son.’_


End file.
